Famous Last Words
by pippermint
Summary: We all know who L is, but what was the tale of Lind L. Tailor, the ill-fated imposter? Spoilers for episode 2. ONESHOT.


**Author's Note:** Just a little added detail for something that happened in the series. Spoilers for episode two.

** Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note.

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"We'd like to apologize for the interruption. As of now, we're bringing you a live worldwide broadcast of Interpol's ICPO." My eyes darted nervously between the cameraman and the brown-haired reporter who was currently speaking. Hadn't they said only a few moments ago that the news was being broadcast to a certain part of Japan? What exactly was going on? Why was I even here, at this TV station, when I was supposed to be dead this morning?

It had been over five years since I had met her: Elizabeth Lewis, an American student studying to be a Japanese translator. Exactly five years since I had fallen in love with her, and asked her to be my wife, and five years since she had said yes. A year had passed since the time when I first felt that things were going wrong, since she had ceased to come home at a decent hour. A year since I had confronted her, and she had denied everything. It had been six months since I found out the truth. Only six months had passed since I had come home at the wrong time. Since I saw the truth, and put bullets through the bodies of my wife and her lover. Since the authorities had caught me, and taken me to trial, and sentenced me to death by lethal injection.

And today, the day I would finally be reunited with the woman whom I had so dearly loved, wasn't going according to plan. Two men had come into my cell that morning, wearing not the white coats of the executioners, but dark suits and equally grim expressions. Before I knew it, I was being handcuffed, and taken not to my scheduled death but into a unmarked car outside the prison. As I squinted under the sun, I was unceremoniously shoved into the back seat.

Now I was here, sitting in front of the television station logo and behind a desk, like some terrible impersonation of a reporter. The grey suit that they had given me was too big, but at least my face was clean and my hair was combed. I couldn't help but find humor in the fact that, on the day of my death, I was worried about how I would look on television.

The orders that the men had given me were simple: read the teleprompter, and look like you mean it, like the words are your own. It was then that a chill went down my spine. What exactly were they trying to do? I didn't dare try to run away. This uncomfortable feeling was nothing compared to a needle in my arm.

The snatches of conversation that I had overheard seemed like something I shouldn't know. How did they know that I wouldn't tell someone once I got back to prison? I felt another chill; something was definitely wrong here. The men had been talking about Kira. I had heard about him from my inmates, some of who had friends dead from the sudden heart attacks. A thought occurred to me, but I disregarded it as nonsense. Surely Kira wouldn't want to kill me! There were many other live murderers in the prison, and some on the outside too. I had killed Elizabeth and her lover only out of passion, and I was being put to death for it anyway. Surely there was some other purpose for this situation.

"We now take you to the ICPO." That was my cue.

The cameraman turned towards me, and words appeared on a large screen opposite where I was sitting. I began to read with as much authenticity as I could muster up. "I head up a national police task force which includes all member nations. I am Lind L. Tailor, otherwise known as L."

What was going on here? I felt the confusion seeping into my face, but forced my voice to remain steady. Some foolish, childish voice said that if I did this well, the men who had brought me here would let me live, even go free.

"Criminals around the world are being murdered by a serial killer. I consider this crime to be the most atrocious act of murder in history. I will not rest until the person or persons responsible are brought to justice. Kira, I will hunt you down. I will find you."

Who was this man, the one who I was supposed to be? Who was this L? I had no time for thoughts, because the words moved up to reveal more lines of text.

"Kira, I've got a pretty good idea of what your motivation might be, and I can guess what you hope to achieve. However, what you're doing right now is evil."

Despite my fear, I felt a strong sense of irony: A convicted felon lecturing someone else about morals, and in front of millions too... There were no more words for me to read, but directions to stay in my seat and look into the camera were given. Nevertheless, my eyes strayed to the clock hanging by the teleprompter. Why were they keeping me waiting? What event were they waiting for? The second hand ticked silently... ten seconds... twenty... thirty... thirty five...

I couldn't breathe. My vision swam as a sharp pain erupted in my left arm. What was this? I had never smoked, never drunk to excess, and I exercised whenever possible. I was perfectly healthy, even if it made no difference. If this was what I thought it was, why was it happening so suddenly? My chest tightened with a pain that was unbearable, and I felt my body slump over the desk. Why weren't they turning the cameras off? Why weren't they helping me? As my reality became distant, my last thoughts were not of Elizabeth, but the one who I knew was responsible for my death: Kira.

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